


not-so-fake-feelings (and their very real consequences)

by ActuallyMe



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, fake dating au, that's all this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/pseuds/ActuallyMe
Summary: ‘Is he calling me old? I’m not old! Yaz, am I old?’ The Doctor scrunches her face into incredulity. She’s been called a lot of things in this body, but old isn’t one of them. She’s lived unfathomable lifetimes and too many years to remember, but still. ‘I feel quite young, really. I were old before, I think. Bill used to call me granddad.’ She frowns.No one else seems to know what to say, and the Doctor wonders if she’s put her foot in it again when Sonya rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, she’s a bit of a weirdo, but we love her.’
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 48
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freefallvertigo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefallvertigo/gifts).



> For Freefallvertigo, who has really brought a lot of joy to me with all of their fics. I hope this story brings you even half as much enjoyment.

‘I might have to cancel tea,’ Yaz groans, glancing at her phone. 

The Doctor’s shoulders slump. It’s fine, it is; it’s just _tea at Yaz’s!_ There’s something comforting about the chaotic normalcy of Yaz’s home life: bickering sister, loving parents, doting grandmother. Between the flying feral dogs of Raxion 2 and the TARDIS locking her out, it’s been a rough day. The fam have no idea how close they came to dying this morning, though she suspects it wouldn’t have stopped them from trying to pet the poor creatures even if they had known. No cure for this particular strain of Lyssavirus.

‘I have to catch up with a few mates anyway, Yaz. Text me when the TARDIS opens up again, Doctor.’’ Ryan says, already bounding off home. She has a feeling that Ryan isn’t going to be travelling with her much longer. He’s starting to feel the strain of growing older while his friends stay behind. Not that she can blame him. She knows that when it happens, it will be a natural end to their adventures, but it’ll still hurt. She hates endings. Even if they do keep in touch, it won’t be the same.

‘If Yaz is busy, you can always stay with me,’ Graham suggests, but his heart doesn’t really seem to be in it. He is growing weary of this life as well. It did him good for a while, something to help soothe the pain of Grace’s death. But he’s healing, and he needs to move on. She wonders if this travelling is hindering his recovery more than anything.

Her boys are outgrowing her.

She hesitates. ‘Why’re you cancelling, Yaz?’

The Doctor doesn’t quite know what to make of Yaz. It seems she wants more, but whether that’s more out of the Doctor or her life here on Earth, the Doctor couldn’t hazard a guess. And this whole cancelling business is out of character for Yaz. Maybe they’re all outgrowing her.

‘My Auntie Basima and her son, Emran, are visiting. Well, they’re not really related to us. Family friends, more like...’ Yaz fiddles with the pop-socket on her phone. ‘Auntie Basima is fine, I guess. A bit critical, but mostly she keeps trying to set me up with her son, and Emran is a bit… stuck-up.’

Oh, is that all? She can deal with that. ‘Well, that settles it,’ the Doctor grins. ‘Can’t let you face them on your own.’

Graham nods, something like relief ghosting over his features. ‘Right. Guess it’s a quiet night in for me, then. Bye Doc, Yaz.’

The Doctor waves and heads toward the building when Yaz grabs her hand. That’s been happening more and more as of late.

‘You should’ve gone with Graham,’ Yaz warns her, turning the Doctor’s hand over in her own. She’s glowing in the late afternoon light, and the Doctor swallows. This is too intimate. Despite herself, she doesn’t pull her hand away.

‘Oh,’ she says when Yaz’s words finally sink in. Has she read this wrong? Does Yaz want to be alone?

Either she’s let her telepathy seep through, or Yaz naturally picks up on her nervous energy. 

‘Nothing to do with you, Doctor. It’s… Emran is really insistent. Hasn’t picked up on the fact I’m not interested. He’s been trying to get with me since college, but I’ve known him since we were really little. It’s too weird.'

That’s different. Yaz is usually so brave, doesn’t let anyone get in her way. This Emran must really be something. ‘Yaz. It would be worse of me to let you deal with that on your own. Don’t worry about me. C’mon.’

Yaz mutters what she must think is under her breath, ‘Not you I were worried about.’ 

The Doctor grimaces. Sometimes she wishes her hearing weren’t quite so good. It feels like a personal snipe. She knows that sometimes her presence makes things awkward for her humans, but she helps more than hurts, right? At least, Yaz used to think so. Yaz used to think the world of her. 

They climb up the stairs and the door opens before they even knock. Impressive, that.

Sonya’s frantic hands push them back into the hallway and shut the door behind them, denying them entry into the Khan family flat. ‘Thank God you’re here. They’re bein’ so annoyin’, Yaz, and it’s not like I can just go to our room because all their stuff is there. Did you know Emran graduated top of his class? I know. Because his mum won’t stop mentionin’ it! Driving me absolutely mad. Oh, hey Doctor. I’m glad you’re here. Maybe it won’t be half so boring.’

Yaz pushes Sonya off of her. ‘How bad is it?’

‘He keeps talking about how he’s gonna convince you to move to London.’ Sonya makes a gagging noise.

‘Oh, God. Why did Mum let them in?’

‘Her and Basima have always been close, even if she can’t stand Emran.'

Yaz sighs. ‘Okay, okay. What’s Dad made tonight?’

Sonya throws her hands up in the air. ‘Better question is what hasn’t he made? You know how he gets when we have company. There’s so much food in the house right now.’

‘Oooh, I’m excited!’ The Doctor interjects. ‘I like your dad’s food.’ 

It’s true, Hakim isn’t nearly as bad as his family thinks he is. On Fisar, for example, his cooking would be considered the height of culinary achievement. Everything in perspective.

Sonya rolls her eyes, calls the Doctor a ‘weirdo,’ and finally opens the door back up.

‘Yaz is home!’ Sonya calls. ‘She brought the Doctor with her!’

‘Yasmin? Doctor?’ A familiar voice calls, and the Doctor makes a beeline for Yaz’s grandmother. ‘Umbreen!’ She leans over to kiss Umbreen’s cheek.

Umbreen beams. ‘Doctor! How lovely to see you, again. Basima, Emran, this is the Doctor.’ 

The Doctor loves Umbreen. It’s not only because she’s Yaz’s grandmother, either. Umbreen is one of those rare people who can see straight through people’s carefully constructed walls into the dual hearts of who they are. 

A young man she’s never seen before stands from the dining room table and heads toward them.

‘Hi, Yasmin’,’ he says to Yaz. He leans in for a hug, which Yaz sidesteps out of. 

‘Hi Emran,’ and it’s the least friendly the Doctor has heard Yaz’s voice inside her own home.

Emran steps closer and wraps his arms around Yaz. Yaz’s face turns to panic before settling into deadly calm, and she maneuvers herself out of the embrace, pushing him away. It happens too fast for the Doctor to do much, but she is simultaneously proud of Yaz and defensive of her.

She steps between them and juts her hand out. ‘Hiya.’

‘Who are you?’ he demands, looking at her hand like it’s personally offended him.

‘That’s Yaz’s girlfriend,’ Sonya grins, full of teeth.

Yaz glances at her, and the Doctor swears she hears the lightbulb click on in Yaz’s head. It’d be helpful if she knew what the lightbulb meant, though.

‘Yup! The Doctor is my girlfriend.’

‘Am I?’ the Doctor asks. There’s that lump in her throat again.

Yaz scowls and shoots her a pleading look. ‘Well, we haven’t put a label on it. But we’re together.’

Oh, no, Yaz thinks they’re together. Yaz thinks they’re together! When did this happen? This isn’t good; she doesn’t want to hurt Yaz, but this body doesn’t do emotions well at all, and when did Yaz get so close? She awkwardly takes the Doctor’s hand. They’ve held hands plenty of times, but not this intentionally. The Doctor finds herself flustered and embarrassed. 

‘Play along,’ Yaz whispers, her breath tickling the Doctor’s ear. Oh. Oh! This is a trick! They are trying to trick Yaz’s creepy not-cousin and scare him away. This, she can do. She’s good at tricking people! Or at least, she used to be, but it’s gotta be like riding a bike, right? She pretended to be a health inspector on Raxion 3 for a whole day. She can be Yaz’s girlfriend for a few hours, no problem. Doesn’t even need the psychic paper for that.

She only hesitates for a second before wrapping her arm around Yaz’s waist. ‘Yeah,’ she leans into the touch, trying to slow her racing hearts. ‘Yeah, we’ve been together… how long now?’

‘Five months on Tuesday.’ Yaz grins at her. The Doctor feels herself smiling back.

Najia grins. ‘Told you they’d tell us when they were ready,’ she says to Hakim. 

Sonya raises her voice. ‘You both owe me a tenner. I knew she’d come out before the year is up.’

Hakim grumbles good-naturedly. Yaz has started glowing. ‘You guys are so embarrassing!’

The Doctor turns her attention back to Emran. He’s eyeing up Yaz with something in his gaze she can’t quite name.

‘I didn’t know you were into women, Yasmin,’ Emran drawls. His left nostril lifts like he’s smelled something bad. ‘Mature ones at that.’

‘Is he calling me old? I’m not old! Yaz, am I old?’ The Doctor scrunches her face into incredulity. She’s been called a lot of things in this body, but old isn’t one of them. She’s lived unfathomable lifetimes and too many years to remember, but still. ‘I feel quite young, really. I were old before, I think. Bill used to call me granddad.’ She frowns. 

No one else seems to know what to say, and the Doctor wonders if she’s put her foot in it again when Sonya rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, she’s a bit of a weirdo, but we love her.’

She’s used to Sonya calling her weird, but saying she loves her! Oh, that gets her right in her hearts. That’s _nice._

With that, the awkwardness dissipates, and Umbreen begins to fuss over them, patting their arms. She pushes Yaz’s hair behind her ears and pinches the Doctor’s cheek. ‘Now, Yasmin, Doctor, you’re both so thin!’ she chides. ‘What sort of adventures have you been up to? You need to remember to eat when you’re exploring.’ 

The first time they’d met in Yaz’s timeline, Umbreen hadn’t been able to look away from the Doctor. It’s been a few times since, and the Doctor knows that Umbreen remembers, but this is the closest she’s come to acknowledging it.

Umbreen lets her hand rest on the Doctor’s, familiar and kind, and the Doctor puts her other hand on top to create a sandwich of sorts. It’s nice. Yaz’s family is nice. She squeezes and Umbreen beams.

‘She’s fine, Mum.’ Najia rolls her eyes. ‘By the way, Doctor, thank you for that letter of recommendation. Never thought I’d land a cushy job as a personal assistant, be a civil servant.’

‘You’re hard-workin’, Najia. That letter opened the door, sure, but you got in on your own merit.’ Not exactly true. Najia is amazing and could’ve got it if not for MI6’s rampant nepotism. Really, the Doctor just evened out the playing field.

She breezes by and gives the Doctor a squeeze on her shoulder. ‘Thanks, though.’

‘No problem.'

‘Now you need to get me a job,’ Sonya grins.

‘Don’t start.’ Yaz rolls her eyes.

The atmosphere is starting to feel like the Khan household she knows and loves.

‘Doctor, the pakora are ready! I made them for you and me since you’re the only one of the girls who’ll eat it.’

‘Ooh, your terrible pakora are brilliant!’ The Doctor untangles herself from Yaz to go snack when a needling voice interrupts.

‘Najia, why didn’t you tell me about Yaz?’ Basima’s needling voice pierces the Doctor’s ears.

‘Well, remember how I went to those support classes I couldn’t really tell you about? They said not to out your kids to anyone. We were waiting for her to be ready to tell us. I told you I thought she was dating someone, though,’ Najia says patiently. Yaz is lucky to have such kind parents. It makes an ache grow in the centre of the Doctor’s hearts, but no, right now she’s got a role to play; she’s got to protect Yaz from someone she doesn’t want.

‘Y’alright?’ she asks, putting her hand on Yaz’s arm.

Yaz nods. ‘M’fine.’ She looks mortified, her cheeks darkening and the Doctor can tell she is having a stress response.

‘Well, sweetie—wait, don’t say anything, I heard how wrong that sounded. Babe? Worse. Definitely worse. I think I’ll stick to Yaz.’

Yaz laughs, a bit manically, but that stress response is less intense. ‘Sure, babe,’ she winks.

‘Oi! It sounds good when you say it! Not fair.’

Yaz shrugs. ‘Whatever, love,’ and the Doctor’s stomach does something funny. Uh-oh. She recognizes that feeling. She is not going to do this again. She is too old and too tired, and who says Yaz is interested anyway? They’re doing this to get her out of dating this Emran bloke. Oh, but she likes when Yaz calls her ‘love.’

She tries not to think about it as they sit at the dinner table.

Emran jostles Sonya out of the way to sit on Yaz’s left side.

‘Oi!’ Sonya says, but he ignores her and slides into the chair.

Oooh, the Doctor’s dislike for this young man keeps on growing. She really hates when people act better than other people, and he’s still staring at Yaz with those big moon eyes of his. Which would be fine if Yaz were into it, but she’s not, has made it clear she’s not. Yaz puts her hand on the Doctor’s thigh, and that’s new. The Doctor swallows. She hasn’t been touched in so long. The fam don’t really hug her, and she doesn’t really hug the fam. It’s a bit too much all at once. To distract herself, she leans over Yaz to look at Emran.

‘So, Emran, what do you do?’ The Doctor asks, trying to make conversation.

‘Programmer.’ He puffs up his chest. 

‘He makes a good salary. And he just got another promotion! Tell them, Emran, what you make,’ Basima glows with pride.

‘Oh, mum, I couldn’t.’ But he looks like he really, really wants to.

Basima practically vibrates in her seat. ‘It’s 65k.’ 

‘Sixty-nine, actually,’ he corrects. Sonya sniggers. ‘They’ve added London weighting.’

‘Is that a lot?’ The Doctor asks. ‘I forget my currency exchanges.’ She knows she’s vaguely being a jerk, but she didn’t start it.

Sonya’s sniggers turn into genuine snorts.

‘Well, what do you do? What are you actually a doctor of?’ Basima glowers at her.

‘Oh, got a few PhDs. I travel, mostly. Help out where I can.’

‘Like Doctors Without Borders, right?’ Najia suggests.

‘Sommat like that,’ the Doctor concedes. She doesn’t usually mind sharing about her adventures, but Emran and Basima don’t seem like the type to appreciate it.

‘The Doctor is incredible. She’s the best person I’ve ever known.’ Yaz is smiling at her.

‘That’s cheesy,’ Sonya says, flicking some rice at Yaz. The Doctor notices that the bulk of the grains hit Emran on the face and miss Yaz completely. ‘Oops.’ It’s the closest Emran gets to an apology. Basima looks like she’s about to berate Sonya, her mouth opening, but then it closes and nothing is said.

‘What kind of a person just goes by a title, anyway,’ he grumbles as he wipes the rice off with his napkin.

‘I do,’ the Doctor shrugs with what she hopes is an easy smile. ‘Oooh, thanks Hakim, this all looks brilliant.’

Hakim beams and sits beside her at the head of the table, and they finally eat.

‘So, uh, Doctor, how’d you and Yaz meet?’ Basima asks.

‘On a train,’ the Doctor says.

‘At work,’ Yaz says.

They glance at each other, and Yaz giggles. ‘Bit of a long story. I were on duty when we met. The train were, er, experiencing some technical difficulties that she were sorting out.’

‘Isn’t that what an engineer is for?’ Basima asks with a scowl. ‘If you’re a doctor, why are you fixing trains?’

The Doctor tilts her head. ‘Well, I weren’t quite fixing it. Trying to sort some people out, actually, because Tim Shaw were hunti—’ Yaz squeezes her thigh and she clamps her mouth shut. ‘Er, I mean, I’m a jack of all trades, really. Help people, fix things, you know.’

‘I’ve never heard this story,’ Sonya perks up. ‘You brought her back for tea one day and said she were one of your mates, but you never said how you met.

Hakim sets his knife and fork down. ‘She fixed our telly last week. Thought I’d have to get a new one, but now we get channels that I didn’t even know existed. Don’t pay for Sky no more, either, but still get all the paid movies for free.’

The Doctor beams, faltering slightly when she catches sight of Basima’s glower.

‘Emran had a point earlier. How old are you, Doctor? Because you look like you’re forty. And Yasmin is only twenty. That’s a bit of an age difference. You’re closer in age to her parents than you are to her. You must know how this looks?’

Najia shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

The Doctor shrugs, opting for honesty. ‘Stopped counting after about eight thousand years. Birthdays lose their meaning after the first few hundred, anyway.’

Sonya rolls her eyes and Hakim laughs. ‘See, she’s funny, too.’

The Doctor notes the way the Najia’s eyes narrow at Basima.

‘Oh, Auntie, don’t worry about me,’ Yaz says, spearing a potato with her fork. ‘No one can make me do anything I don’t wanna do.’

\--

‘I can’t believe they stole our room just because they’re here,’ Sonya groans. ‘This happens every time.’

‘Does it happen often?’ The Doctor asks as she helps to turn both futons into beds.

‘Yeah. People are always comin’ over, and we’re always gettin’ kicked out. Why do you think we got these stupid sofas,’ Sonya rolls her eyes. ‘I’m takin’ the big one. You two can share the little one.’

‘Not happenin’,’ Yaz says, pulling the sheets over one of the futons ‘Either you share the big one with me, or you get the little one on your own.’

‘Ew, fine. I’ll take the little one. Don’t wanna get between you and your Doctor.’

The Doctor laughs nervously. ‘Y’know we’re just pretendin’, right? To get Emran to back off.’

‘Sure, you say that, but I see the way you two look at each other. Eye-fuckin’,’ Sonya teases. Yaz sputters. ‘You’re cute, but like, in a gross way. Besides, you don’t need to lie to me.’

‘Language,’ the Doctor says, trying to fight incredulity. She doesn’t make eyes at Yaz.

‘What, you don’t like when I said you were eye-fuckin’?’

‘Oh, do shut up,’ Yaz groans, throwing a pillow at Sonya’s head.

‘Oooh, is this a pillow-fight?’ The Doctor asks, intrigued. She likes pillow fights! She’s fantastic at pillow fights!

‘No,’ they say at the same time, but Sonya doesn’t return the pillow until Yaz asks very nicely, and then she lobs it at her head.

‘I used to have sisters,’ the Doctor sighs wistfully, instantly wishing she could recall the information when Yaz shoots her a curious look.

‘Oh?’ Sonya asks. ‘When do we get to meet your family?’

‘Er…’ the Doctor swallows the lump in her throat. ‘I… we don’t really talk.’ Well, it’s not exactly a lie, and it’s a lot easier to swallow than the whole truth. She’s kept the fam at arm’s length for the most part, taking part in their lives but never letting them get too close to her. She’s not sure yet if it’s a coping mechanism or if she’s afraid they’ll run the second they find out just how damaged she is.

‘That’s sad,’ Sonya says. ‘Big fight?’

The Doctor huffs. ‘Somethin’ like that.’

‘Have you tried makin’ up?’ Sonya flops on her futon.

‘I…’ she doesn’t know how to respond to that.

‘Shut up, Sonya, leave her be. C’mon, lie down Doctor.’

Yaz may have managed to secure the larger futon, but it’s still tiny. So small, in fact, that the Doctor finds herself flinching away from Yaz. Yaz seems to be just as uncomfortable, and they both keep shuffling until Sonya huffs in their direction.

‘Stop making so much noise, I’m tryna sleep.’

The Doctor doesn’t usually sleep. She doesn’t need as much as humans, and sure it’s been a while, but she’s not particularly tired.

‘Yaz,’ the Doctor whispers. ‘Yaz, I can’t sleep.’

Yaz sighs. ‘Me neither. I can’t believe I came out like that to everyone. It’s so dumb. I never have to do this when we travel.’ She’s sniffling, and the Doctor can smell the tang of salty tears in the air. 

‘Yaz?’

‘I didn’t want to come out this way, just because Emran was being a prick. I hadn’t even come out to you, yet, or the fam, or anyone!’ She’s curling in on herself, and the Doctor doesn’t know what to do. Coming out is a sacred ritual unique to the human experience pre-twenty-third century, and Yaz shouldn’t have been robbed of it.

She knows they don’t usually hug, but they’ve been touchy all evening and this won’t hurt, really. Yaz needs a bit of comfort. The Doctor hesitates only for a moment before she places her hand on Yaz’s shoulder.

‘He isn’t nice, is he? Full of himself. And coming out is supposed to be on your own terms.’

Yaz turns to look at her. The light from outside shines in her watery eyes. ‘Are you queer?’

The Doctor sighs, thinking back to what she learned about herself. She doesn’t want to unpack what being the Timeless Child means right now, especially not with Yaz looking at her like that.

‘Time Lords don’t really do gender the same way humans do. Our bodies are always reforming, so gender is meaningless. I spent most of this life as what humans would call a man, but I’m not really a man or a woman, and I’ve never picked my partners with that in mind. So by human standards, I guess I would be, but the concept of straightness and queerness doesn’t exist in my culture.’

Yaz tears have dried. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Must be nice.’

‘Time Lords aren’t nice,’ the Doctor sighs.

‘You are,’ Yaz’s breaths are mingling with the Doctor’s, and her mouth has gone dry.

‘I don’t count,’ she says, blinking away moisture from her own eyes. Stars, she hadn’t meant to get this deep. 

Yaz’s hand reaches over to wipe a tear off the Doctor’s face. ‘You do, to me.’ 

‘Don’t,’ the Doctor murmurs.

Yaz closes her eyes and presses her head underneath the Doctor’s chin. The Doctor tenses as Yaz’s hands rest against her chest, and then Yaz’s breaths even out into sleep. 

It feels strange to hold Yaz, to have her in her arms. She hasn’t held or been held by anyone in so long, and she’s definitely not going to be able to sleep now, not after all that. Except she must be a lot more tired than she thought because soon she’s sinking into unconsciousness, oblivious to the way that Yaz cuddles up closer to her.


	2. Chapter 2

_You’re alone._

_You’ve always been alone, always been apart, odd, and now you know why. You’re the only one left, and they (your family, your kin, your people, except it’s all lies) took everything from you. Everything you are, everything you would be, they took and they took and they took, and when they could no longer steal that which made you special, they carved your memories out of your skull, forced you back into a child, compelled you to relive everything._

Stop, please.

_You are nothing. In making you everything, they have made you nothing._

_And now they’re gone. Up in smoke. Your fault, that. Last of your kind, first of your kind, the unwitting, unwilling progenitor of your kind, ender, the downfall of an entire civilization, your people._

It weren’t me, it weren’t me, it weren’t me. 

_But wasn’t it? Your codependency on Koschei, your friendship with them, isn’t that the reason they’re all gone? If you hadn’t saved their life, if you hadn’t loved them, if you had just let them die the first time…_

It’s not who I am.

_No, it’s not. Isn’t that delicious? By saving one life, you doomed billions. They deserved it, though, didn’t they, Theta Sigma?_

That’s not my name.

_You’re right. Who knows what your real name is? It could be anything._

I know my name! I chose it for myself.

_Did you?_

\--

The Doctor gasps, air choking its way down her lungs, a thick and heavy, broken and stuttering thing. There’s raspy breathing in her ear—her own, she thinks.

The nightmares are getting more intense. That voice in her head—that cruel, eager, needling thing that burrows its resentment and fear into her psyche, it’s becoming worse.

She becomes aware of a warm weight against her chest and soft light filtering through her eyelids. She doesn’t know where she is, and that adds to the panic. When she twitches her eyes open, she finds a head of curly brown hair resting inches from her face.

Her panic shifts a register.

Why is Yaz sleeping on her?

The previous day’s events sift back into her brain and she groans, remembering Emran and Basima. They’re still in the flat, so she and Yaz will have to keep the charade up a bit longer.

Her hands twitch, and she finds one is buried in Yaz’s hair. Holding her is nicer than it should be. She can smell her floral shampoo, can feel her single heart beating against the Doctor’s own chest, and the peace she feels conflicts with her turmoil. 

Her hearts haven’t quite recovered from her nightmare or the fact that Yaz is lying atop her, and, suddenly, it all feels like so much. Her unconscious is cruel; Yaz is soft; the Doctor is weak. The sunlight is too bright, the pressure on her chest, in her mind, in her hearts, it’s all too much and she needs to get out. She extricates herself from Yaz, untangling their limbs and depositing her as gently as she can onto the futon.

‘Doctor?’ Yaz’s sleep-soaked voice interrupts her movements.

‘Sorry, gotta go.’

She runs.

She doesn’t see anyone on her way out, but she knows that even if someone were to try to question her, the dread lodged in her throat would prevent her from saying anything. Her legs propel her out the front door, all the way down the stairs, past the building, and through to the alley. She’s eager to get home, back to the TARDIS. Maybe she’ll even get in this time.

No such luck.

The TARDIS keeps her doors closed to the Doctor, doesn’t even dignify her pleas to enter with a response beyond projecting the image of Yaz asleep against her breast into her mind. She staggers backward.

‘Traitor,’ the Doctor says, leaning against her TARDIS and sliding to the ground. The pavement is gross, she smells days old urine from someone who was definitely pissed, but she doesn’t care. She just wants to go home. 

Home. What does that mean anymore?

It used to mean the warmth of twin suns orbiting around each other, silver-leafed trees that lit up like fire in the mornings, a sea of red grass rippling in the breeze. Running around with the Master before they grew up and went to the Academy and everything went to pot. 

But where is her real home?

‘Great time for an identity crisis,’ she huffs, ‘perfect timing really when you’ve got Yaz waiting for you in be—’ she stops herself from finishing the thought.

The Doctor lifts her eyes to the clouds and breathes out. She can’t. She just… she can’t. It wouldn't be fair to Yaz. It wouldn’t be fair to the Doctor, either. She isn’t daft; she knows what those glances Yaz sends her way mean. Those expressive eyes, the ones that reach straight into her chest and stars, her mouth, her smile, that soft little thing she reserves for the Doctor. That’s why she’d been so panicked yesterday, thinking Yaz thought they were together. Because she wants it. They both want it.

Basima is right about one thing at least: the Doctor is old, even if she doesn’t look nearly as old as she is, even if she doesn’t feel it sometimes. She’s done the unequal relationship thing. People die. People die, and she has to be the one to protect her fam. She’s always had to be so strong, and she is so tired.

‘Hey.’

Sonya pulls her out of her reverie.

‘Move.’

‘You might not wanna sit here,’ the Doctor suggests, forcing brightness into her tone.

‘Why? Actually, I don’t care.’ Sonya leans against the TARDIS. ‘Why aren’t you back in the flat cuddlin’ Yaz?’

The Doctor doesn’t look at her, keeps her eyes trained on a particularly grey cloud. ‘Because if I do that, I won’t be able to stay objective.’

From her periphery, the Doctor sees Sonya look away from her phone and glare at her. ‘Look, if you aren’t goin’ to step up, you need to leave. My sister deserves better than that.’

A bark of laughter escapes her. ‘Your sister deserves the universe. I can give her a lot, but I can’t… I can only give so much of myself.’

‘Seriously, mate, what is up with you? Yaz looks at you like you hang the fuckin’ moon in the sky! And you’re into her, obviously. Followin’ her around like a lost puppy.’

The Doctor opens her mouth. ‘I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I’ve got a—a past.’

‘Sounds rough,’ Sonya says, quirking her eyebrow in a way that reminds the Doctor of Yaz and makes her chest ache. ‘But like, if you’re gonna bail, do it sooner rather than later. Yaz doesn’t need to be strung along. She’s got a past, too. You didn’t see her when she were at her worst. You didn’t see how low she got. And like, she almost got that way when you disappeared for three months last year, too. I had to sort her out. So if you’re not goin’ to open up, then she deserves to know.’

The Doctor stands and dusts off her trousers and guilt settles low in her gut. ‘You’re right. I need to talk to her.’

Sonya pushes away from the TARDIS and looks back down at her phone.

‘‘Course I am. Also, Dad wants you to see if you can get the boiler to stop makin’ that noise. But talk to her first.’

She follows Sonya back to the flat.

‘Hey!’ Yaz calls. Her voice sounds strained.

Emran is sat at the table, prattling on about his company’s very important military contracts while keeping his eyes trained on Yaz’s bum. He only shuts up when he goes to drink from his steaming mug of coffee.

A quiet rage rises in the Doctor, and before she can talk herself out of it, she’s pointing her sonic at Emran’s mug without any pretense at hiding. He doesn’t notice because he underestimates her, and that’s just fine by the Doctor on this occasion.

The mug jerks as though someone has pushed it against his face; coffee bubbles onto Emran’s pressed white shirt. She hides the sonic in her pocket before he can put two and two together.

‘What the fuck!’

‘Language,’ the Doctor admonishes. ‘A bit clumsy, were you? That’s alright, nothing a good wash won’t fix. If you soak it now, it won’t stain.’

‘You did this,’ he scowls.

Sonya grins and covers the Doctor. ‘She were stood right here with me, Emran.’

The Doctor shrugs and Emran scowls. He leaves the table in a huff and disappears into the bedroom he and his mother have commandeered.

‘Cool, now that we’ve saved you from Emran, I’m goin’ for a run.’

‘Oi, didn’t need savin’,’ Yaz shakes her head. Her back is turned toward them; the Doctor can’t see her expression.

‘Whatever.’ Sonya shrugs before she’s out the door with headphones in her ears.

They’re alone, though for how long the Doctor doesn’t know.

Yaz finally turns, frying-pan full of scrambled eggs, looking at the Doctor with far too much hope. And the Doctor doesn’t want to kill that hope, except she knows she has too. ‘Yaz—’ 

‘Breakfast,’ Yaz interrupts her.

‘We need to talk. About last night,’ the Doctor tries.

Yaz shrugs. ‘Nothin’ to talk about.’

‘Don’t make this harder than it has to be.’

Yaz’s shoulders slump. ‘Don’t worry. I know… I know you don’t feel the same way. Just let me have this, yeah? S’nice to just be with you, even if I know it’ll never really happen. It’s just for—’

‘The pretense, yeah.’ The guilt lies heavy on the Doctor’s tongue. It’d be so easy to reach out and wipe the frown off Yaz’s face, let herself be loved.

Yaz makes a sound like laughter, but sad. ‘I know that I’m not whatever it is you want. You’re so amazin’, and I’m just me.’

The Doctor furrows her brow. That’s not right. ‘No, Yasmin Khan, is that what you think? You are amazin’ and brilliant and kind. You have heart, y’know.’ She steps toward her and rests her hands on Yaz’s shoulders. Yaz tenses underneath her hands. ‘You are everything I want.’ The Doctor swallows as that light returns to Yaz’s eyes. ‘This isn’t because I don’t, it’s because I wouldn’t be good for you.’ Among other things.

Before Yaz can respond, Emran strides back into the open plan room and they leap apart. Yaz glances sidelong at the Doctor, who pretends not to notice.

\--

‘I know you love Basima, but I’ve never been happier to not have guests in the house,’ Hakim says to Najia.

The Doctor takes that as her cue, but as she’s elbow deep in the boiler, it’ll have to wait. She cranes her neck awkwardly backward. ‘I’ll be out of your hair soon, Hakim. I think I’m almost done.’

‘Oh no, I didn’t mean you, Doctor. You’re family.’ He winks and the Doctor snaps her head forward. She doesn’t know if he’s saying that because he thinks she’s with Yaz or if she really has just embedded herself too deeply in these people’s lives. She also doesn’t know which one is worse.

‘I’m going to pick up that cake from Estee. Where’s Sonya?’

‘Runnin’,’ the Doctor answers, ‘Left about forty minutes ago. Wanted to avoid sayin’ goodbye to the gruesome twosome.’

Hakim snorts and Najia sighs. ‘Basima used to be such a laugh!’

Nani pipes up from her spot at the table, “That woman was always stuck-up, even when she was a girl.”

Najia groans, “Mum,” but the conversation devolves into a playful argument and the Doctor ignores the white noise.

After a few minutes, she turns the boiler back on and stands. ‘There, all done. What are you gettin’ cake for?’

Hakim claps. ‘That’s for us to know and you to find out,’ he laughs as Najia kisses him.

Before she disappears, Najia says ‘Don’t leave until I get back, Doctor,’ and then she rushes out of the flat.

‘Oooh, is this a surprise? Love a surprise. Unless it’s a Sontaran Boom cake. I mean, it were fun the first time ‘round, but I don’t know if you’d be too happy with buttercream and sponge in every crevice of the flat. The TARDIS weren’t pleased, and she can self-clean.’

Yaz joins them then, and to the Doctor’s surprise, Yaz slots her hand into hers. ‘Why are you talking about the Sontaran Boom cake?’

It takes a second for the Doctor to find her voice. ‘Your parents have a surprise and I think it’s cake. It’s not your birthday. Is it my birthday?’ the Doctor scrunches her nose. Her birthday doesn’t correspond to Earth years, and how could anyone know when the Timeless Child was born? It’s easier for her to think of the Timeless Child as separate to herself. ‘Nah, it’s not mine either.’

‘When is your birthday, Doctor?’ Hakim asks.

After a beat, she goes with ‘Eighth of November,’ the date that Missy bestowed to her once upon a time.

‘A Scorpio? Like Yaz!’ Hakim seems delighted.

‘I didn’t know that,’ Yaz murmurs. Her voice is so close to the Doctor’s ear and she can hear the hurt in it. She makes a note to let her know it isn’t the eighth of November, later.

‘Yup, that’s me, Scorpio. I never got the hang of astrology, really. What does that mean?’

Hakim is about to launch into some sort of explanation when Sonya enters the flat, bangs the door, and asks,’“Please tell me—’

‘They’re gone,’ Yaz says, her eyes crinkling in a smile. She releases the Doctor’s hand, and the Doctor breathes a sigh of disappointment. 

‘Thank _God_ ,’ Sonya says.

Yaz has a full glass of water ready for her which Sonya takes and downs in two seconds flat.

They’re such sisters. Sonya is right that Yaz deserves better. She deserves this, her family, and the Doctor takes her from the people who love her far too often. And for what?

Yaz catches her eye and says ‘Right. Right, Doctor, let’s—’

She doesn’t get to finish because her mum opens the door and says, ‘Help me!’ The Doctor can smell cake, and goes to take the box from her.

‘What’s this for, then?’ The Doctor asks as she hefts the small box onto the counter.

“Well, it’s for you! Well, mostly Yaz, but also you, Doctor. Sonya, get the letters.”

‘I need to shower. Do we have to do this now?’

Najia fixes Sonya with a look that means business. ‘Yes! You knew this was happening today! Now c’mon, get the letters and you can take the pictures as you’re dressed like that.’

‘Muuuum,’ Sonya groans.

‘What are they doing?’ The Doctor asks Yaz, and Yaz shrugs. 

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ They take their places at the table and then Najia opens the box.

It’s an explosion of rainbow buttercream and the Doctor sits upright. ‘Ooooh, love a rainbow.’ But then she turns to Yaz, who has gone unusually stiff and silent. 

She’s crying. Tears in her eyes as her sister gives her four envelopes.

Sonya rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her face. ‘We’re glad you trusted us to come out, or whatever. These are for you.’

Najia herself is sniffling, and so is Hakim. The Doctor, Sonya, and Nani own the only dry eyes at the table.

‘We will always love you, Yasmin,’ Nani says, her voice soft.

Najia shakes her head, and Hakim puts his arm around her shoulders. ‘The letters were your sister’s idea. They’re just letters you can open whenever to know that you’re never alone. We will always be there for you.’

Love. Yaz is so loved, and the Doctor swallows down the sudden lump in her throat.

‘Thank you for making our Yaz happy, Doctor.’ Hakim sniffs. ‘Even if you are an alien.’

The Doctor gets whiplash from his casual words, and Najia elbows her husband. ‘Now is not the time for your conspiracy theories, Hakim!’

The Doctor laughs and winks in Hakim’s direction. Najia sighs. ‘You don’t have to encourage him either, Doctor.’

‘I’m gonna cut it,’ Sonya says. ‘Estee makes the best cakes and you’re taking too long Yaz, soz.’

She cuts through the centre and gets the perfect slice. To the Doctor’s surprise, the sponge is also rainbow.

‘This is brilliant, you lot! But Yaz only came out last night? How’d you organize all this so fast?’

‘Estee is a friend. She makes cakes on the side, and I spoke to her about the possibility of needing a coming out cake a few months back. She said she could make a small one on short notice, so I texted her last night and she said it would be ready today,’ Najia beams.

Sonya doles out the cakes with a magnanimity that feels sincere, despite her incredulous expression.

Yaz takes the first slice and cuts a piece with the side of her fork. ‘You really shouldn’t have,’ she says, even as she shovels cake into her mouth. She glances at the Doctor, and the Doctor feels dread grow in her stomach. They’re going to have to have a fake breakup at some point. It can’t go on like this.

\--

Yaz meets the Doctor on the balcony as they gaze over the TARDIS.

‘She wouldn’t let me in this morning,’ the Doctor admits.

‘She in a mardy mood still?’ Yaz asks. Her hand is dangling and the Doctor wants to take it again, even though she knows better.

‘She, uh… wanted me to go back to you.’

Yaz coughs. ‘You don’t have to lie to me, you know, to spare my feelings. It makes it worse.’

The Doctor turns to Yaz and furrows her eyes. ‘I’m not lyin’ to you, Yaz.’ She takes a breath. She needs to make Yaz understand. ‘Last year. Before I disappeared, on Gallifrey. I… I found somethin’ out about myself. I found somethin’ out that means I don’t know who I am.’

Yaz scoffs. ‘You’re being cryptic again Doctor.’

The Doctor scrubs her hand through her hair. ‘Gallifrey isn’t my home planet. I thought it were, honest, but I found out they lied to me. I found out I don’t know who I am. And they stole from me. My genetics. The reason the Time Lords were Time Lords is ‘cause they stole from me. Poked and prodded me and forced me to give parts of myself up.’

One of her hearts clenches and she gasps for breath. 

‘Doctor?’ Yaz sounds worried. 

‘M’fine. Just hurts to think about.’

Yaz stands there silently. ‘Have you been carrying this with you this whole time?’

‘How can I love anyone when I don’t know who I am? When I could hurt you? When—’

‘Don’t be daft. I know who you are. You’re the Doctor. You’re brilliant and kind and Doctor, you’re in pain. You’re hurting. Let me help.’

‘I almost killed you with the cybermen, Yaz. I was so careless with your lives.’

‘Is that why we haven’t helped anyone in ages? You’re afraid of us getting hurt?’ Yaz sounds incredulous and the Doctor nods her head.

‘Yes!’ she hisses. Yaz flinches and the Doctor reaches for her. ‘Yaz, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying not to.’

Yaz looks at her hand and then up at the Doctor.

‘What do you want? What do you actually want?’

The Doctor’s mouth turns downwards. ‘It doesn’t matter what I want, because every time I let myself love someone, they die. And your life is so precious Yaz. You are precious. Your family loves you so much, and how could I take you away from them like that? How would I survive heartbreak of that magnitude again?’

Silence stretches between them for a moment before Yaz breaks it, leaning against the balcony and staring at the mid-afternoon sky. ‘What was their name?’ She asks, tentative.

‘’It wasn’t just one person, Yaz. I have stars know how many regenerations in me, and if my suspicions are correct, I will outlive everyone I have ever known or will ever know.’

There’s silence for a moment. The Doctor swallows, and then Nani is calling for them.

‘We’re not done Doctor. We’re going to have a proper conversation about what you learned, and we’re going to talk about whatever this is,’ Yaz says, gesturing between them.

The Doctor watches her go and see her Nani off. She goes to join Yaz with a seed of hope in her hearts, despite her best intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologise for the two month hiatus. I wrote half of this the day after I posted the first chapter and then... nothing. I haven't been able to write ANYTHING for two months. I've been so frustrated. But I started the couch to 5k writing thing and all of a sudden words happened? I can't promise it won't be another two months before I post the next chapter, but I will do my best. Thank you for your lovely comments on my first chapter. They really motivated me to try and finish.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to MissMinton for checking for errors, and to GlitterIbbur for the massive work you helped me put into this. I love you both a lot.


End file.
